Never Leave
by FireFalconDeux
Summary: Marluxia and a companion decide to play a little 'game'... OneShot. Possible OOC and AU, rated M for language and 'adult themes'. Pairing is a secret. :c Please review!


_A/N: I'm not quite used to the fandom yet, so forgive me for any OOC. :c Also, forgive me for not revealing the pairing right away. It's just how it came out. This fic is also a little AU… I flubbed the timeline of the game to make each character a few years 'older' than they were at the start of the game. Made more sense to me for the game to have dragged out over a longer span of time. But yes, anyhow, enjoy. Please review._

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She never leaves.

She could, either between their little sessions or in the moments just after they finish, but she never does. She could even leave forever if she so chose; all she would have to do is retreat to Xemnas' side. But most nights, when Marluxia came back to Castle Oblivion, she'd be there waiting at the edge of his bed with a calm expression that seemed to soothe the frayed nerves obtained during the day.

They would head out the back of his room to his garden. She followed wordlessly, stopping to admire the flowering trees and other plant-life every so often. He let her; very few appreciated his craft. Eventually they would reach his favorite spot, a clearing at the very center of his sanctuary. From the outside, all one could see was a giant, thick ring of razor-leafed bamboo that towered mightily over anyone who had made it thus far. Marluxia led his companion through the entrance only he knew existed, emerging on the other side-- a half circle of rosebushes of all colors lay within the bamboo shield, hidden from the outside world, with a sakura tree blossoming peacefully right in the middle. Under the tree was a tall slab of dark, cold marble, meant as a place for rest and contemplation.

Neither rest nor contemplation was on Marluxia's mind as they walked across the long, soft grass to the marble. It was a bit low to the round, maybe three feet high, but it was over five feet long and about the same in width, truly a beautiful piece… and perfect. He sat down while the girl approached the sakura tree, touching its bark in a ritual that had played out for nearly a year now.

"Is it well?"

"Well enough," she replied quietly, turning to face him and leaning her back against the tree.

He stood then, walking into her and pinning her to the tree with his body, a dark purr in his voice. "Well enough? And what does that mean?"

Her voice was calm, fearless; she was playing her part well. "You can do better."

"I could do better than you, too."

"Then go do it."

The rose vines slid from the ground, crawling up along the tree and seeking flesh. Marluxia smiled as the vines crossed over her neck, thorns lying delicately against her pale skin. She didn't move, her eyes locked onto his; her arms were next, then her thighs. He shrugged off his black cloak, dropping it to the ground. The gloves came off next, removed with his teeth, followed by the thin, black cotton shirt he wore under his cloak.

"Close your eyes," he ordered as his eyes met hers, like usual. The absolute trust there was always unnerving.

"Make me."

What defiance. Marluxia struck her, open-handed, across the face. The crack echoed through the otherwise quiet gardens, as did the cry that came from her throat as the vines began to tighten around her. He pressed back against her, the thorns digging into them both as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to the mark left on her cheek. She finally closed her eyes, turning her head back to him and meeting his lips with her own in a rough kiss, blood from her lips tainting his tongue with its metallic taste.

Then his hand was on her thigh, traveling up. "Say it," he crooned, finding his target and smiling as she arched against the restraints. "Say it."

She thrashed as he touched her, drawing in a breath as her flesh opened beneath the bloodthirsty thorns and his fingertips. "No."

He teased her, and she let out a whine. "Say you hate me."

"I… I hate you," the girl whispered, heat and pain flooding her senses and mixing, intoxicating.

"Louder."

"I hate you."

"Again."

"_I hate you!"_

Then her eyes were open and she was looking at him again, and the emotion there-- real or feigned-- was all he needed. The anger, the rage, the conflict. Maybe she truly hated him then, but that only added to the appeal. He needed the pain, the hurt… and it was far easier to hurt someone who hated you.

Her breathing hitched as the thorns tightened and the blood began to flow more readily; the foreplay was over. She could only writhe and cry now as he pressed harder, deeper, and she did. He knew how to play her like a violin and she sang sweet under his touch, struggling and sobbing and hissing out profanities between gasps. Still, she was a difficult mistress, and he knew that the moment his concentration slipped he would lose their game.

"Marluxia," she breathed, the first time she had ever said his name during their battle of wills. It was a moan and sigh all at once…

…And slip, his concentration did.

The vines that held the bloodied sprite snapped, and he soon found himself shoved backwards onto the marble slab. She was on top of him, straddling his legs and trailing her crimson fingers down his chest.

Frustration and excitement melded together, and he growled. "Sneaky little bitch."

"Birds of a feather," she cooed, one of her hands at his zipper and the other running through his strawberry blond hair. Marluxia bit his tongue as she tugged at his pants; she smiled wickedly as the tables turned, snaking her fingers along his groin. "Say it."

It was his turn to whimper. "Make me," he smirked, mimicking her words from earlier.

The hand in his hair tightened, yanking him into a sitting position so hard it made his eyes water. "Say you hate me," she sneered, the mischief in her eyes so far from the little girl he'd first met years ago.

He gripped her shoulders before she could drop him back onto the cold stone; it would leave bruises on her, and she'd wear those bruises like a badge of honor. "I hate you."

The sneer turned into a vicious smile, and she slipped the hand in his hair behind his neck, pulling him close as she leaned over, kissing just below his ear and replying in one single, faint whisper. "Liar."

Her teeth sank into his neck as she claimed him, her prize. His eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped his arms around her, mutual sounds of pain and pleasure rising from them. Marluxia clawed her back as she took him, and she returned the favor as he began to meet the grind of her hips with thrusts of his own. Their blood and sweat mingled as they drove harder, faster, until Marluxia's grasp tightened, his body arching under her own. The blond girl laughed, giddy and triumphant, as she finally allowed herself to reach her own peak of ecstasy. She had won.

For a moment they stayed there, leaning on one another and waiting for the adrenaline high to subside. They eventually made their way off the marble to lie upon the gentle grass, twined around one another and more like lovers than combatants now. She stroked his cheek, resting her head under his chin and listening to the nothingness in his chest. Tomorrow would bring the same old political song and dance-- the others would be giving them looks, would be talking when they thought neither were listening. But for tonight…

Marluxia closed his eyes, a familiar sense of possessiveness falling over him. "Don't leave," he murmured into her hair, his hold on the girl growing soft as the game drew to a close.

Namine smiled. "I'll never leave."

And it was true.


End file.
